


Into Thin Air

by SunflowerSupreme



Series: Witcher (A/B/O) [15]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:20:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26350291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: Interesting. Perhaps I'll use it in my new ballad. In any case, what a truly delightful place. Triss says we should stay here until Princess Adda stops dreaming of slitting your throat.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher (A/B/O) [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1598041
Comments: 40
Kudos: 144





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The fun thing about telling this from Dandelion's point of view is that I don't have to explain what's going on, because Dandelion has absolutely no idea what's happening most of the time. And you know what? I really don't think he gives a shit. 

Of course Geralt had to go and fucking vanish. Things had been going too well, of course he would disappear into thin air right in front of Princess Adda.

That Triss thought Dandelion ought to be the one to go after him was somewhat uplifting, but that didn’t change the fact that Dandelion wasn’t overly enthused about being thrown through the sorceress portal. But he kept his comments - particularly _‘at least it’s you and not Yen’_ \- to himself. 

He barely had time to register what was going on when she barged into his room, ordering him to grab his things - and quickly - before pulling from the room. 

"Is Geralt alright?" he demanded, stumbling after her. "Triss! Triss wait!"

"He had better be," she replied.

Dandelion shook his head. "He would be much better off if you would leave him be," he grumbled. 

The sorceress glared at him, but Dandelion had drunk enough gin to find himself saying, "You know as well as I do that if knew the whole truth-"

"He needs a fresh start," Triss interrupted. "And I need your help, or I'd have gone to someone else." 

Dandelion decided it was best if he stopped arguing, otherwise Triss might not tell him what had happened and then he'd be left to pick up the pieces. 

"You know," the bard said, licking his lips as Triss cast a portal. "Geralt doesn't trust these things." 

"Move bard," was all Triss said (well, there was more, he was dimly aware of a package being placed in his hands) before shoving him through the portal. 

* * *

Whereever he'd been dropped, it was surprisingly close to the Witcher (one small victory, he supposed). It didn't take long at all to track Geralt down, something that was helped by his brilliant white hair and general height, both of which set him apart from a crowd. So after interogating a few locals - and catching up on the local gossip - he was able to find his friend. "Geralt!" 

The Witcher stopped, raising an eyebrow when he saw Dandelion stumbling toward him. "Dandelion." 

He paused for a moment, waiting to see if the Witcher had anything else to say - perhaps something about how glad he was to see Dandelion, or how loyal the bard was for slogging through the mud for him. When nothing else came Dandelion asked, "How did you get here?" 

"By teleport."

Dandelion had already known that and rolled his eyes before cheerfully saying, "Triss teleported me too. It was amazing. I always wanted to see what it was like." 

"She did that for you?" Geralt raised an eyebrow, the hint of a grin appearing on his face. "Must be having an off day."

The bard pouted. "So why did Triss teleport you here?"

"Let's say she saved me from the kiss of death." The mere thought of Geralt dying - again - sent a shiver down Dandelion's spine. 

"Interesting. Perhaps I'll use it in my new ballad. In any case, what a truly delightful place. Triss says we should stay here until Princess Adda stops dreaming of slitting your throat." 

"I have to agree. So tell me about this place. In prose, if you don't mind." 

Dandelion glanced around. He knew only a bit about the village they'd been thrown into. "It's a charming area, thoroughly magical in it's mood." Nothing too specific, he decided, nothing that could be seen as an insult to any of the particularly lovely women he could see in the distance. "The peasants seem all together happy while the peasant women are... hmmmm....."

Geralt snorted, reminding Dandelion to get back on track. "Well, there's going be a wedding. Alina, the mayor's daughter, will marry Julian - no, not me you arse. Julian the merchant from Kovir." The Witcher still seemed too amused by the similarities in names. To distract him, Dandelion said, "Alina's taking care of Alvin."

"Our Alvin?"

"Unless Alvin has a twin."

"Dandelion." 

"Oh! And that reminds me, Geralt. Triss said that you should watch him since others are after him. Or something like that." He had truthfully ignored most of what the sorceress had said. It hadn't seemed too important, not when Geralt's life had been on the line. 

"Anything else?"

"I don't think so. Now to the tavern to meet some charming lass who'll get my spirits up." 

The Witcher snorted and shook his head. "Fine," he said. Dandelion told himself that he wasn't imagining the way Geralt's mouth seemed to quirk into a smile at the edges. 

Geralt trailed behind Dandelion as he hurried through the small town (calling it a city would be an insult to any matter of civilization). "What are you doing out here in the swamp Geralt?" Dandelion asked, "Have you found out more about Salamandra?" 

"Keep your voice down," snapped the Witcher.

Dandelion sighed. "I'm only trying to help, Geralt." 

"The last time you helped I nearly died." Then, just as quickly, he added, "I didn't mean that." 

Dandelion scowled. "I can find the tavern on my own," he decided. "I'll see you later Geralt." 

He pretended not to notice that Geralt continued following him after that, although the Witcher stayed at a distance and left him alone. There was something reassuring about the man keeping an eye on him from a distance that he couldn't complain about. 

Triss had given him a bit of coin - perhaps he was supposed to give it to Geralt? He couldn't recall if she'd specified, and if he rented a room that they could share then it wouldn't matter either way. Making his way to the innkeeper he handed over just enough for a room, then hurried upstairs, slamming the door behind him and pushing a chair against it to keep it closed. 

Dandelion's fingers trembled as he opened the latch on his bag, reaching inside and pulling out the glass vial in the bottom. He held it up to the light, studying the fine powder that remained. Two doses? Perhaps three if he was careful? He'd discovered that he could take it every other day (although that meant he had to forego bathing and cover himself in even more perfume than usual to disguise the scent that slipped through). 

"Three doses will get me nearly a week," he told himself. "And this shithole must have an herbalist. Perhaps she will be able to help me." 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for a massive panic attack in this chapter.

Once he'd managed to compose himself, stamping down his impending panic, Dandelion doused himself in more perfume and opened his door, peering outside. Despite the panicked voice in the back of his mind there was no sign of any alphas coming to drag him away. 

He slipped downstairs and sat at a table, allowing himself to be drawn into game after game of dice. It was an easy way to make coin, which he would need if the herbalist could indeed make his medication. 

* * *

He had just finished winning yet another round when his opponent suddenly paled, looking at something behind Dandelion and then abruptly hurrying off. 

The bard didn't need to look over his shoulder to guess what had happened. "Geralt? Is that you? How are things?"

The Witcher's voice was oddly terse as he said, "I found Alvin."

"Alvin?" Dandelion twisted around, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. "Wait a minute, Triss wanted me to do something, hammered it into my head for an hour.... Ah here we are! I have a dimeritum amulet for him!" He held the amulet out with a smile.

Geralt seemed unamused, shaking his head and grumbling, "Dandelion, I can't trust you to do anything."

"Is that so? Well, I just remembered I also have a package for you." 

"A package?"

"I don't know," he said flippantly. "Something. But I might have lost it." He offered Geralt a playful pout, his fingers playing over the lump in his vest where he'd stowed Triss' letter. 

"Quit pouting Dandelion. What do you have for me?"

"Fine," he grumbled, finally pulling out the lumpy package and practically tossing it at the Witcher. "I have a letter to you from your lover."

Geralt grit his teeth, taking the letter and putting it away in his pocket. Then he sat across from Dandelion in his opponent's vacated chair. "Do you like the country?" he asked stiffly. 

"It's wonderful," he said cheerfully, ignoring the uncomfortable tightness in his chest. "Wine, women, song and dice through the night....."

"Dice? I've played. I didn't think the game was popular in the provinces."

"People here go wild for it, it's incredible." 

"I doubt I'll find anyone who's a challenge." 

He sat up, already shoving his dice board toward Geralt, eyes gleaming. "Try me," the bard urged. "Some say I'm as good at poker as I am at poetry."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

"When I'm done with you, you'll be looking for solace among the elves." He snickered, "One of them's not bad, actually."

Dandelion easily wiped the table with Geralt, although that might have had something to do with the fact that Geralt hadn't anticipated him to be any good at the game. With a disappointed grunt Geralt leaned back in his seat. "What happened in Vizima after I disappeared?"

"Who knows," said Dandelion with a shrug. "I left soon after you." He paused, studying the Witcher's face, then slowly said, "Though I did hear that you'd staged quite a blood bath."

Geralt remained emotionless. "Sometimes killing is necessary."

"Now don't get offended." Something churned uncomfortably in Dandelion's stomach as he asked, "But has killing become a pleasure for you?" 

"Salamanders and their like deserve to die."

The bard chewed at his lip for a long moment, then quietly said, "I won't judge you. I just hope you know what you're doing."

"I do."

* * *

Geralt left soon after that, leaving Dandelion alone again to gather up his winnings and slip out the door of the inn. The town was small and cramped, filthier than Vizima, and Dandelion was glad to have a dark cloak to wrap himself in, which allowed him to blend in to his surroundings. 

He got directions to the herbalist easily enough, and traipsed out to her hut, which sat just outside of town with high spirits. Surely she would be able to help him. Village herbalists were, in his experience, easier to deal with then those in cities. In the country heats were seen as a nuisance as the nuisance they were, since they disrupted daily life and took needed workers out of the field. 

The villagers had told him that she was something of a jack of all trades, dabbling in this and that, so he wasn't startled to see a sign on her door advertising her abilities as a mystic. Dandelion pushed open her door, stepping inside and pushing back his hood to take in the dark room. It appeared to be empty of it's mistress, so for the time being, Dandelion amused himself by wandering the dimly lit shop. 

Dandelion's knowledge of potions and medicine extended only as far as his suppressants and which potion to give Geralt if he was bleeding out, so he had little idea of what he was looking at, but he found the bottles and dried herbs fascinating nonetheless.

Then his stomach dropped.

His blood ran cold and he mentally cursed himself for not having brought Geralt along with him, or - at the very least - told the Witcher where he was going in case something went wrong. 

Laying nonchalantly on a shelf was a book Dandelion knew all too well. 

"Might I help you?" 

He turned quickly, startled to see a woman standing in the corner of the room. Mouth dry, it took all his concentration to spit out, "No," before he ran from the shop. 

He didn't stop running until he was back in the safety of his rented room, slamming the door behind him and sinking to the floor. Geralt had evidently been there at some point, his leather satchel dropped on the chair, and Dandelion scrambled toward it, ripping it open and fumbling inside for a weapon. It seemed that despite his amnesia, Geralt's instincts remained the same, and his search was rewarded by a short hunting knife which he wrapped and crammed into his boot. 

Then he stumbled to the chamber pot and vomited. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hard trigger warning for this chapter. 
> 
> Dandelion's panic attack continues and we get a glimpse into his past, including child abuse, rape, and domestic violence. Everything you've been told so far in this story about society's treatment of Omegas pales in comparison to whats discussed here.

The first thing he became aware of was the cold floor under his cheek.

With a moan Dandelion pushed himself up, pushing limp curls off his forehead. Another wave of nausea rolled over him, but with nothing left in his stomach, all he could manage was weak coughing, spittle spraying from his lips. His muscles trembled as he pushed himself to his feet, stumbling weakly across the room. Outside, the moon had risen, the only proof of how long he'd been on the floor, shaking and panicking.

 _Where was Geralt?_ He had a sudden and irrational urge to see the Witcher, specifically to curl curl up in his arms until the panic faded (a feeling that Dandelion blamed on his lack of medication).

The Witcher couldn't have come back to the room, even in his current clueless state he wouldn't have left Dandelion laying on the floor. Not to mention, the door was still locked and bolted, so the only way he could have entered was through the window (which he had been known to do). Dandelion sat on the bed, resting his elbows on his knees and placing his face in his hands.

It had been years since he'd last seen The Book (which was what he'd called it as a child, to the point that he often forgot that it had a proper title), and he had managed to push all thoughts of it to the back of his mind. Seeing it in the shop of someone he had thought would help him had pushed him into blind panic.

 _The Care and Keeping of Omegas_. Dandelion scoffed. The title of The Book was deceptive, it had little to do with care, as the first chapter explained that the only part of an Omega that needed to be kept healthy was their reproductive organs. His father had given him a copy after he'd presented as an Omega, the last gift the man had ever given him, and he'd been expected to read and memorize it.

He could still remember when he'd flipped it open for the first time. Closing his eyes he could remember the soft leather cover, stroking his fingers over it as though it were a treasured pet. He'd been young and frightened, uncertain what was happening to him, and the title had seemed so reassuring, so comforting. Then, within the first page, his illusions had been shattered.

_"Wise men have said that it is the duty of society to care for their weakest members. A civilization that allows harm to come to those who cannot defend themselves will crumble from within. As such, it is of the utmost important that Omegas are kept safe, cared for so that they may perform their duty, to reproduce offspring and to continue the race._

_Due to the rise of so-called Omega Rights activists, it is the duty of this author to set in stone the proper method of rearing omegas."_

Dandelion's shoulders shook as the words came back to him, unbidden. With sob he banged his head against the bed frame, but it did nothing to erase the words from his mind. The Book contained everything that was to be done with Omegas, starting from the moment they presented ( _"from the moment of so-called Presentation, when the Omegan scent glands open at the start of puberty, the child must be properly reared..... for the male child, on the day after his Presentation, he is to be taken to the doctor and circumcised so that his Alpha need not trouble themself with keeping their charge clean.. Anesthetic has been proven harmful to reproductive health and should be avoided."_ )

His life had been mapped out, exercises to strengthen him without causing unsightly muscle gain ( _"a muscled Omega is an undesired Omega, as power is the realm and duty of the Alpha"_ ), what meals he was allowed to eat ( _"bland foods are most agreeable to the Omegan constitution. It has been found that those who are permitted to dine on sweets have most disagreeable temperaments that require correcting with a cane"_ )

He'd spent five years, from when he Presented at thirteen until he'd finally fled his father's house at eighteen living in constant fear of The Book. Every wrong he committed he would be forced to fetch The Book from his room and search the pages to find the prescribed punishment. Then his father would enact it, word for word, forcing his son to recite the passage as he suffered. ( _"Talking back to the father shall be punished with ten firm strikes, to be delivered with a cane on bare buttocks...... A male Omega, caught bringing pleasure to himself with his own hand should have his hands tied behind his back for one week and subsist on a diet of r....... if the Omega insists upon spending too much time outdoors, where the sun might damage their fair complexion, then they should be allowed what they want. Strip the Omega and leave them bound to a pole in the yard. Sunburn of such a caliber shall cause little lasting damage but will serve as a reminder of why they must remain indoors."_ )

But by far, the most frightening had been the second half of The Book. When he had Presented Dandelion had only a slight idea of how sex worked, and that had been specific to intercourse between a man and a woman. Because although the first half mapped out how to keep Omegas healthy with an emphasis on their childhood, the second half had been very explicit in what the Omega's true duty was: childbearing.

He had been forced to read, in explicit detail, what heats entailed and how his adult life would revolve around being kept indoors, in supposed "safety" _"in recent years, there has been a rise in the so-called 'breaking the buck,' that is to say, mutilation of the lower limbs so that a troublesome Omega can no longer attempt escape. The author of this book believes in such action only in extreme cases, as a properly trained Omega will obey their Alpha out of duty."_ ).

As described by The Book, Omegas were to be viewed as property, mindless and dependant on their Alpha, giving into the Alpha's every whim ( _"Omegas shall submit always to their Alpha. If the Omega is tired or sore, it is appropriate for them to inform their Alpha of such. But if the Alpha orders them to bed nonetheless then they are to obey."_ )

Dandelion rolled his shoulders uncomfortably, swallowing back another wave of nausea. He had never once mentioned The Book to Geralt, out of an irrational fear that Geralt might scoff at him for being so frightened of slips of paper. Even when he'd told Geralt about his intended mate, the Lord his father had attempted to sell him off to, he'd left out the worst of it.

The Book had been explicit in what rituals were to be followed before a mating was attempted, a diet of broth and water for a week, followed by a humiliating "cleansing" on the first day of his heat, before the slick and arousal had started but when he'd been sensitive to touch ( _"when the Omega's heat is near they are to be taken to a fresh stream and cleaned by a priest. Both inside and out must be scrubbed thoroughly, paying careful attention to the Anus for males and the Vagina for females. Lye soap, though known to cause irritation, is the best suited for the task....... After the cleaning they shall be taken inside the Alpha's chamber and bound to wait for the heat to begin. Nesting, although a part of an Omega's desires, is only to be allowed as an occasional reward for mated Omegas"_ ).

He knew Geralt had researched Omegas before he'd agreed to mate Dandelion, and there had been a part of him that had feared The Book had been one of the tomes he'd found. But unlike the man he'd been promised to, Geralt had focused only on Dandelion's needs, something The Book had never forbidden, but only because it was so laughable that the author would never have considered it.

A sudden and irrational urge overtook him, and Dandelions stumbled toward the door, desperate for the taste of alcohol, the burn as it ran down his throat.

The reality of his situation was starting to sink in. He was trapped in a godsforsaken swamp with only a few precious drops of medication left, accompanied only by his former mate who no longer recognised him and seemed to barely tolerate him. The network he had relied on for help, of Alphas who would bed him and then forget about him, was out of reach. Shani and Triss couldn't help him, and the Herbalist that had meant to be his salvation preached the doctrine of his childhood. After all, The Book explicitly forbade any sort of suppressant or medication ( _"It is natural to pity the Omega, weak though they are, driven by instinct and lust. As such, many Alphas allow limited medication, to ease their discomfort, or are understanding when the Omega is caught to be medicating without permission. This is a mistake. An Omega who self medicates is to be treated first for poisoning by giving them a drink of salt water to induce vomiting. Watch over them to ensure they do not choke, but resist the urge to offer them comfort. Once their system is cleansed of poison the Alpha should immediately instill into them the wrongness of their actions. Twenty five strikes with cane, delivered on bare buttocks..... for the male Omega, this is to be followed by ten strikes with a razor strap to the testicles and another five to the anus. Then he should be mated hard and fast, with no lubricant or preparation."_ )

Dandelion gripped the door handle tightly, shaking as the memories washed over him. What would the herbalist have done if he'd asked for the medication? He could have claimed Geralt was his alpha, but she would have known immediately that he was unmated. And since he hadn't told Geralt where he had gone there was no telling what would have happened before he was missed. 

Making sure Geralt's knife was tucked firmly in his boot, Dandelion unlatched the door. A drink wouldn't fix anything, but it would make it easier to handle. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was hard to write.
> 
> People have commented before on Dandelion's self loathing and how negatively he views Omegas, so I hope this explains some of why he's like that. It's been quite literally beaten into him. 
> 
> A lot of Dandelion's past (like when he mentions telling Geralt about his intended mate and Geralt's research on Mating) come from A Shoulder to Cry On, if you're fuzzy on the details of this series.


	4. Chapter 4

He'd retreated back to his room after stocking up on alcohol, curling into a ball by the door and eventually drinking himself into a stupor (or perhaps he'd been overcome by exhaustion before the alcohol had taken effect, his mind was too hazy to be certain). 

Unlike the last time he'd woken on the floor, sunlight was streaming through the open window, although it wasn't the light that woke him. It was the pressure on his spine, repeated taps that increased in frequency as he blinked blearily. 

In the blinding light he could make out three, vaguely Geralt-shaped forms looming over him. "You keep telling me you'll stop drinking," said the middle Geralt.

"Fuck my head," the bard moaned. He blinked rapidly and the three Geralts slowly merged into two, still looking displeased. After another moment there was only one Geralt left, looking ready to throttle the bard. 

Geralt grabbed him and pulled him up. Although the initial movement was rough, the way he caught Dandelion and led him across the room to the bed was surprisingly careful. "I had to come in through the window," the Witcher growled. "I thought something had happened to you." 

"Did... did that upset you?" 

Geralt dropped him onto the bed where he landed face first in the blanket. "The whole town was talking about you coming back in a panic," he said gruffly. "I thought you'd been injured, but it seems you've just upset some pretty girl." 

The accusation stung, even through Dandelion's muddled brain, but he couldn't bring himself to argue. "Geralt," he moaned. 

The Witcher rolled him over onto his back. "Don't suffocate." 

Dandelion yawned. "Have you found Salamanders yet?" 

"Salamandra," corrected Geralt. "No. I haven't." 

"I don't like lizards," he said with a grin.

Geralt almost seemed to smile back, but he turned his head away as he said, "Lizards are reptiles. Salamanders are amphibians." 

"Fuck them all." 

"It wouldn't surprise me to know you'd tried to stick your cock in a lizard." 

"Geralt!" with an offended cry Dandelion threw the pillow at him, although it missed him by several feet and fell to the floor. 

It was the only pillow on the bed, a fact Geralt was more than happy to remind him of, saying, "How are you going to get your pillow back, bard?"

"You're going to give it to me." 

"I am?" 

Dandelion whined and held out his hands. With a grunt Geralt picked up the pillow and stomped to the side of the bed, then shoved it over Dandelion's face as though smothering him. After only a second he released the pillow, letting Dandelion shift out from under it. For one blissful moment, everything was fine and happy. Then Geralt nodded across the room toward the chamberpot and said, "You threw up." 

"Alcohol," he muttered weakly. 

"You only had half a bottle." 

Dandelion groaned as he pushed himself up, rubbing his palms over his eyes. "Geralt I had a rough night," he moaned. 

"Are you hurt?"

"No, Geralt." 

The Witcher studied him. "You'd tell me if you were hurt?" he asked finally. 

"Yes, Geralt." 

Geralt nodded slowly, although he almost seemed hesitant to believe him. "I'll bring food," he said stiffly, then turned and stomped out of the room, leaving a startled Dandelion in his wake. 

He pushed himself up, managing to right himself despite the way his head was still spinning. He wasn't certain what to do, other than sit pathetically on the bed until Geralt came back, two plates of food in his hands. "Here," he said, dropping one in front of Dandelion. "Eat up." 

Dandelion didn't need to be told twice. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a proper meal, it had been at least the day before, perhaps two days back, and he devoured what Geralt had brought him in silence. Then, to his surprise, he was offered the rest of Geralt's food. 

"I can get more," the Witcher said as he tried to refuse. 

"Thank you," Dandelion said with a smile. 

Geralt nodded tersely, standing and moving toward the door, he paused, then gruffly said, "Keep the knife."

Dandelion blinked, not entirely startled that Geralt had noticed his missing weapon. "Oh, I- thank you Geralt."

"I won't ask why you want it," he said. "But I'm more likely to hold my own in a fight than you, if it comes down to it." 

"I'm not going to use it on you, Geralt." 

The Witcher gave him an odd smile. "I'm offering to protect you, Dandelion." 

"Oh." Before he could process fully what Geralt had said, the Witcher vanished out the door. 

* * *

The that evening, once he'd taken a tiny dose of medication (leaving him with only two left), he returned to the Herbalist's shop and purchased The Book. There was no reason to it, but for some reason he couldn't stop thinking about it, his skin crawling until he was sitting in his rented room, holding it in his hands. 

It wasn't as nice as the copy he had grown up with, the cover was paper, not leather, but the rest was the same. The text was exactly as he'd remembered it, the illustrations, showing Omegas in various sexual or birthing related positions were every bit as traumatic as he remembered. 

And although he'd told himself he was buying it to burn it, he found himself tucking it into his bag instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've got one more short story (should be up not long after this) and then you'll get what you've been wanting (aka, Dandelion running out of medication). And since I love teasing you, lets just say the one shot will make you want to murder Geralt.


End file.
